Lost Winter
by NocturneAngel
Summary: If nobodies could feel, there would be hesitation and then sadness dwelling inside Vexen. And if nobodies could feel, Marluxia would be heartbroken for what he'd done. MarVex. Matured for death.


If there would have been a feeling dwelling inside Vexen, it must've been hesitation. Standing on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the upper floors of Castle Oblivion, he was weighing on his feet, wondering whether he should go up there or not.

But now, there couldn't have been hesitation that the blonde man was feeling. Actually, he wasn't able to feel anything at all. Being a nobody, a being that was of neither the world of light nor the one of darkness, he did not exist. Instead of a throbbing inside his chest, there was nothing but an empty space, taking the place of his non-existent heart.

What separated Vexen from other people was just that fact: that he didn't have a heart. And with no heart, he was unable of feeling.

Not feeling in the manner of bodily touch, and that he hardly or not at all did sense it. No, the touch of other materials against his skin, that, Vexen was highly capable of feeling. In fact, he did at this very moment feel the gentle weight of his black cloak against his shoulders; the floor beneath him was hard, but as unreal as him.

No, what Vexen did not feel, was just.. feelings. Without a heart to pump boiling blood through his body, he wasn't able of feeling love or passion. With no heart to break, he wasn't able to feel sorrow or sadness. And with no heart to tremble like a caught animal in his chest, Vexen was unable to feel fear or panic, even in the most horrible of situations.

But he wasn't the only one. In this non-existent castle, in this non-existent world, there were other people, as non-existent as him. The only ting that separated him from them was that he was more convinced, surer, that the absence of a heart robbed him of all emotion. The others would allow themselves with simple pleasures, with food and sleep, but Vexen didn't.

Convinced as he was, he firmly believed that there was no use to play games or read other books than encyclopaedias or reports – for he could simply not enjoy it. Eating and drinking was nothing to be spent so much time on, for it was just a way to keep his unreal body going. A way to provide himself with nutrition and moisture, and nothing else. And sleeping was something only to be made during the most desperate situations.

Otherwise, Vexen would keep himself going by coffee and caffeine pills, or by sucking a dextrose tablet until he was so filled with energy, he would go on with his work day in and day out, wearing his non-existent body out until he finally collapsed, and slept for a few hours until he could get going again without his limbs disobeying him.

This way of living – or, well.. Vexen didn't exist, so he didn't live – this way of being, gave him a worn out appearance. There were dark spaces around the inner corners of his eyes, strengthening the effect as they already lay deep, and though half closed they held a colour of piercing green. As most lines of his face, the jaw- and cheekbones were high and sharp, almost running parallel against each other. Both his face and his body were thin - skinny as _he_ would say. Since the full mouth seldom smiled, it made the lips looked thin instead, and the eyebrows that crooked about in the middle were thin as well, giving his high forehead an intelligent impression. The hair was blonde, though _he_ would not satisfy with just blonde, but compare it with a fair gold that shimmered from the sun during an otherwise cold and pale winter morning.

But of course, _he_ could never be content with a simple description. The nobody that in this precise moment tormented Vexen's mind with an illusion of hesitation could never give a clear explanation of anything and then just leave it be. No, _he_ had to decorate his already flowery speech with as many adjectives he could come up with, flourishing and just being _over the world_.

It drove Vexen crazy to say the least.

But still, there was something about the exaggerated, superficial, slightly egocentric man that had caught Vexen's eye. Though he often scolded Marluxia for interrupting him, not showing him the respect his higher rank and age required, the frequent visits and rather abusive ways of showing affection had finally won Vexen over.

He was still scolding the pink haired man, of course, but couldn't help but approving.

And now, he was standing on the lowest of the steps leading to the upper floors of Castle Oblivion, hesitating. The flower in his hand looked like it was made of glass at first sight, but when looking closer, you could notice it was actually ice creating the soft curves of the lily, not melting, even in the hands of the man holding it, and breaking the light into a million colours, only a few of them named. It seemed to be a good idea at four o'clock in the morning, when he came up with it. But now, after a few hours of sleep, it seemed a ridiculous thing to do, going up there and giving him a flower of ice, in compensation of the ones that died in winter.

In difference of Vexen, Marluxia always got sad when winter came. The flowers the botanist loved so much all died, though his attempts to keep them alive, and this thought had struck Vexen as he realised fall was closing in.

So here he was, wondering if Marluxia would be happy if he paid him a visit, or just find the lily made of ice ridiculous. Vexen could not feel anything - especially not love - he was completely convinced of that. Yet, there was something about Marluxia - or rather, even the thought of Marluxia - that had a shiver run along his spine. Not one of those cold, awful shivers, but a warm one, completely different from what Vexen was used to. It felt like the frozen core of his body was melting slowly, only by picturing the botanist's face, and that did it.

His heels clicked against the white floor as Vexen walked up the stairs, a rare smile on his lips.

"Can I trust that, Marly? Huh? Can I?" Larxene's voice pierced the air, sparking like from electricity as it reached Vexen's ears, and he froze in his tracks. Though he didn't have any problems - or, at least, not that many problems - with showing a softer side of himself for Marluxia, he did not want Larxene to see him handing over the gift.

During one, crazy moment, Vexen's brain analysed the situation. What was happening in the room he was about to enter, the options he had, and the possible results of choosing any of them. In the end, he decided to simply hide behind the door, waiting for the Savage Nymph to leave the room, and so he did.

But while standing there, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, Vexen couldn't help but hearing what was said in there, and it almost made him stop breathing.

"Of _course_ you can, what do you take me for?" Marluxia sounded annoyed. "I've taken all the steps necessary for the elimination, and Axel is well prepared."

Elimination? Vexen knit his brow and started to listen more carefully, turning his head towards the door, so he might catch a glimpse of either person through the narrow opening between the door and the trim. If he'd had a heart, it would've pumped hard in thrill, but it didn't, and he satisfied himself with the logic fact that this might be information of value for himself.

And it proved to be.

"Really?" The electric voice didn't seem convinced. "Remember, Vexen is a slippery fish, he might suspect something."

At that point, it felt like the scientist's amazing brain completely stopped working. Yet, in the horrible tranquillity that filled his head, he could figure out what the two were speaking of, and it had him hold his breath completely, hands clutching the ice lily hard.

"I would know that better than anyone - wouldn't I? I share the old man's bed, you know."

Larxene chuckled and Vexen's hands started to ache from the crushing grip.

"I know, but I don't understand what you see in him."

"Neither do I." Cracks started to show on the lily's perfect surface, and the scientist's hands trembled. "But it makes the time pass."

He sounded so _reckless_! If he'd been capable of emotion, Vexen believe he would have been crying at that moment, or been filled with fury. But now, it just felt like he'd lost something important to him. Since his brain seemed to be out of function, Vexen did not think. He just stood there, gritting his teeth and listening. Yet, a strange, empty feeling started to spread inside of him. Like a part of his chest had just been ripped away, but he couldn't tell what.

"As you wish, then. If you think your preparations are enough for Axel to kill Vexen off, I won't question them. But I don't expect you to fail, then."

There was a crash as the lily in Vexen's hand broke. "Of course not, Larx. I know that traitor better than anyone. I'll get him killed, be sure of that." Before the pieces of ice had hit the ground, and before the Graceful Assassin had finished speaking, Vexen had turned around and left; the pain that spread throughout his body made it impossible for him to listen to any more.

Any moment now..

Marluxia was huddled in cover, not far from the Keybearer, his dorky friends and the Chilly Academic, whose time of existence could now be counted, not in days or hours, but in minutes.

Why he was there? Marluxia tried not to think of it himself. Despite everything he'd said to Larxene, there was a need, something that drove him to the place. A painful wish to see Vexen, the elder nobody with the golden hair and the emerald eyes, one last time.

Despite everything he'd said, Marluxia cared deeply for Vexen. If he was capable of caring. But if not, it was something else, something similar. The only thing was - Vexen's actions of late had not been profitable for Marluxia's plans to take over the Organization. And he could not risk the plans, based on doubtless logics, for feelings that might not exist. At least he told himself that.

Yet, despite the logics, Marluxia's hands were curling into fists that had his perfectly manicured nails dig into his palms as he watched and waited.

Any moment now..

And there he came. Axel.

Of course, he was a few minutes late, but it didn't matter. He appeared right behind Vexen, the chakram already in his hand. Marluxia closed his eyes.

The Chilly Academic's voice turned into a high-pitched scream as the blow was put in, and for a moment Marluxia wished he had put his hands over his ears.

How many times had not that voice been mumbling his name, as they lay tangled in warm sheets in a dark room? With nothing but the light of the moon shining in, robbing the scene of the two men of all colour and made them pale and smooth like porcelain dolls. How many times had not that voice whimpered in pain as they blended, Vexen's body sunk down in the silken grass of Marluxia's garden, with flowers surrounding them? And how many times had not that voice whispered that if the speaker had been able to feel, all the love that he possessed would be given to Marluxia?

Now, that voice was screaming in pain. A scream that abruptly stopped.

It had Marluxia snap his eyes open. The feeling that something was shrinking, hiding, inside was spreading through him, but he couldn't help but look.

The first words slipped him, and then the wind turned, bringing Vexen's voice with it.

"..I don't want to go yet.."

Something broke inside Marluxia. Like a bond holding his entire being together had snapped, and left him in pieces.

Vexen sunk to his stomach in the grass, his face turned to botanist. But his emerald eyes were empty and glossy, and they saw no more.

If not for the blood spreading under him, the scene would have been beautiful. Vexen's golden hair in contrast to the grass, that seemed to loose some of its colour in comparison to the Academic's eyes. His face relaxed, so the lines seemed less harsh, the full lips slightly parted, and the eyebrows bent up closest to the root of his nose, making his expression sad and lonely.

Then, he moved. As pieces of unnamed, black material started to rise from the body, Vexen's arm reached out. At first, Marluxia thought it was for him, then he spotted a little, pink flower in front of the blonde.

_His final symbol of defiance_, he thought, but found that the lean fingers caressed the petals, almost longingly, and then carefully closed around the stem.

A shiver ran though Vexen's body, and he was gone.

_How can you be gone, when you're in my dreams?_

Silent stars falling through the air. Dripping from lapis lazuli eyes and breaking the cold moon light into millions and millions of little arrows of ice.

The cold was not soothing anymore. Not comforting. Just painful.

_Scattered pieces of a heart that doesn't exist._

I never thought it would be this hard. To leave you. To forget you.

.. To betray you.

That I would feel my chest ache from loss and grief I shouldn't be able to feel. Yet, it's there.

_Frozen flames eating__ me from inside._

And I know you knew. And yet you let it happen. Why?

To let me suffer? To see if I would change my mind? I didn't.

Are you watching me now? Because you can't be gone. If you where, I wouldn't feel you still. Your presence in my room. Your soul next to mine.

_I'm sorry_.

Even though Marluxia dodged and stroke back, he didn't fight with feeling. He didn't put his heart into it, so to speak.

He would probably have been able to kill the Keybearer. _And_ his friends. But he didn't. The weapon grazed his cheeks several times, and he let it.

And when the keyblade came rushing through the air, Marluxia didn't make a single move to step away.

Pain. A pain so intense, a cry found its way between his sculptured lips even though he didn't want to show any weakness in front of his enemy.

It shattered his ribs, ate its way through his aching and empty chest and finally cracked his spine to break out though his back.

When Marluxia fell backwards, the blade was pulled out again, and a gasping breath seemed to be dragged out of him along with it. He fell to his back, the scythe vanishing into thin air in his hand, which curled into a fist.

His body jerked once. And again.

The muscles didn't obey him and had him press his chest up, the heels digging down into the ground of his own garden.

As Marluxia with a grimace of agony felt his non-existent body corroding, so did his flowers. Petals fell off and stems turned brown and black before his eyes.

Summer vanished from the dreamlike garden, and let winter in, and as flakes of snow started to fall upon his face, the cold embraced him like two gentle arms in a way he remembered so well.

A smile appeared on Marluxia's lips as the frown faded away, and before his inner eye, a mane of golden hair flooded in a gentle wind that carried with it crystals of ice.

The Graceful Assassin did not have the strength to speak the word anymore, yet he shaped it as he closed his eyes, and let his being vanish.

_Vexen_.


End file.
